


do you think he knows he took a life (but kept the body alive)

by tigerlo



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mentions of Charity's past, Vanity Fest, Vanity Fest 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlo/pseuds/tigerlo
Summary: It’s a part of her, what he did, sewn between her muscles. It’s a rot that eats and eats and eats until she feels like there’s nothing left of her beyond what they’ve made her, beyond what they’ve left behind.Charity and Vanessa after the first day of the trial.(Written for Vanity Fest 2018 Theme: Angst)





	do you think he knows he took a life (but kept the body alive)

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn't what I actually wrote for the angst day of vanity fest - that's a whole break-up (and get back together) fic that's long and not edited yet so keep an eye out for that soon, but here, have a bit of this in the interim.

-

 

Nobody understands.

 

Nobody actually understands that constant weight curling her shoulders and compacting her spine, the constant, unrelenting burden. Vanessa tries, she’s so willingly there to shoulder some of it for a while, but she doesn’t understand that it’s not something Charity can shrug off and give to another person.

 

It’s a part of her, what he did, sewn between her muscles. It’s a rot that eats and eats and eats until she feels like there’s nothing left of her beyond what they’ve made her, beyond what they’ve left behind.

 

It’s hers, you see. Her shame. Her pain. Her buckling weight. It can only be passed off once, and never again, and Mark Bails did that almost thirty years ago without thinking twice.

 

It’s not as bad as living it all again, telling her side of that story with the cold wood of the witness stand beneath her palms, but it comes close. Wood is supposed to be warm, it’s always _been_ warm everywhere else, but it’s not here. It wasn’t the last time Charity was here, nor the time before either. It feels like it’s judging Charity as harshly as she imagines every face in the room is too, like it’s holding back it’s warmth because it doesn’t think she deserves it.

 

_Fair enough_ , she thinks cynically, curving her nails into the hard varnish, trying to damage it as his solicitor questions her, demeans her, trying to make some sort of impression in the grain.

 

She’s never been embarrassed of her past, but being there, having to admit everything he did, that _they_ did, that comes close. Vanessa doesn’t give her pity, she’s so careful not too, but everyone else does, like they think that’s what she needs.

 

She doesn’t need that now, she doesn’t need them now, she needed them when she was a child. She needed them when she couldn’t feed herself, she needed them when blokes got too rough and split her lip and no one else wanted to touch her until it was healed, and she couldn’t work, or eat, for days.

 

Charity needs their anger, she needs their apology, but she doesn’t need an ounce of their guilt or pity. She never bloody has.

 

She can barely stand to look at her family when she comes back to her seat but she reaches for Vanessa blindly, and then her boys, who came, who stayed, who wrap themselves around her as Vanessa stays as a shield in front, blocking as much of the monster glaring up at her as she can.

 

Charity’s always thought she was part monster herself, but maybe that’s his making. Maybe that’s his poison in her veins. She wonders how different she would be now if he hadn’t ruined her when she was still so malleable. She wonders if she would be kind instead of hard, if she would be patient instead of constantly, exhaustingly tensed for a fight.

 

The relief from seeing the flash of panic in his eyes in court is only temporary though, it always is, and when the light of the day fades she can feel her stomach burn, eating, eating, eating, like it always does whenever she opens this fucking box. She pushes everyone away when they leave the courthouse, turning only for Vanessa, who won’t look at her like she’s broken and damaged like everyone else does, who looks at her like she’s Charity Dingle, and not the scraps he left behind.

 

The village lights loom in the distance and the panic grips her like a hand around her throat. She turns to Vanessa, shaking her head when she signals down the final road home.

 

“I don’t want to go back, yet,” Charity says roughly, gritting her teeth until her jaw aches, begging Vanessa silently not to argue.

 

“You don’t want to go home to bed?” Vanessa asks, her eyes soft and her voice softer as she looks over to Charity, trying to read the paleness of her face. “I thought you said you were-“

 

“Vanessa, please just drive,” she replies impatiently, regretting the snap the second Vanessa turns back to the road with glassy eyes, flicking off the turning signal and driving on without another word.

 

She kicks herself, cursing her stupid temper and her stupid self control and her stupid inability to stop lashing out at the one person who never wavers from her side.

 

Today hasn’t been easy for Vanessa, she’s cried more than half the day, her eyes still trimmed red, and Charity knows today’s not about other people, it’s about her, but she knows she needs to make room for Vanessa no matter the depth of her own problems. She _knows_ she has to, because Vanessa’s breaking point is chewing gum, it stretches long beyond any reason Charity can find, but it’ll break one day, and Charity knows she won’t survive that.

 

“Ness,” Charity says, not sure what else to finish the sentence with, but Vanessa finishes it for her.

 

“Where?” Vanessa asks quietly, nodding to acknowledge the almost-apology, reaching for Charity’s hand without taking her eyes off the road, pulling it to her own knee.

 

“Doesn’t matter, babe,” Charity says, leaning back into the seat and closing her eyes. “Away. Into the dark. To another country if possible.”

 

“Don’t think we’ve got enough petrol for that,” Vanessa replies, and Charity smiles as she rolls her eyes because Vanessa’s so pragmatic it kills her sometimes. It’s normal though, so normal and so everyday that it makes Charity breathe easier. “Or that we paid the babysitter enough, but I’ll do my best.”

 

_That’s Vanessa_ , she thinks with a smile. _Her_ Vanessa. Her Vanessa who gives the world without Charity even having to ask, when she’s spent her life begging for dirty pieces of affection from people she never really wanted it from to start with.

 

The panics hold hasn’t gone but it’s easing as Vanessa drives them around and around, further and further into the dark, further and further away from everyone else.

 

“Are you hungry?” Vanessa asks once, after the clock blinks midnight, “do you need anything?”

 

Charity shakes her head. She doesn’t need anything. She just needs Vanessa and the pitch black, where she can pretend the paper is going to be plastered with her sob story tomorrow. She breathes deeply when the headlines flash behind her eyes but the air only goes so far down into her lungs, and she winds the window down in an attempt to find more, her heart rate climbing in a growing anxiousness again.

 

Vanessa notices the change in her body instantly and she pulls the car over to the side of the road calmly but quickly. She’s out of her own seat before Charity can ask her what she’s doing, too busy trying to regulate her breathing, appearing at Charity’s side of the car a second later.

 

She pulls the door open, reaching for Charity’s seatbelt smoothly in a way that manages her panic instead of adding to it, popping it open with a _click_ , before taking Charity’s hands carefully and pulling her out into the fresh air.

 

Vanessa leads Charity well away from the car, until she can only see the dark of green fields, and can only hear the rustling of grass in the night breeze. It’s cold for a summer night but she’s thankful for it, of the way the temperature rushes over her too-hot skin and down into her chest finally.

 

“Just breathe, Charity,” Vanessa says softly, her hands holding both of Charity’s but at an arm's length, giving her enough space that she feels like a mile away. “Just close your eyes and breathe.”

 

She can hear Vanessa draw in a breath and let it out, and she matches her breathing to it, emulating the rush of her exhale and the soft whistle of her inhale. It could be plainly frustrating, or infuriating, or condescending, if it were anyone else it probably would be, but with Vanessa it’s none of that. With Vanessa, it’s the only thing that stops her mind rushing off into a deeply dangerous hole.

 

She’s never had anyone do anything like this for her before. She’s never had someone so intune with her that they know exactly what she needs when she’s too lost in her own damage to identify it, let alone vocalise it. Vanessa’s the only one. Vanessa’s the _only_ one.

 

A stray breeze whips up over the fields around them, blowing a fresh wave of cold air over her body, and it helps, it does, but Vanessa helps more. Her thumbs brush over the inside of Charity’s palms, grounding her completely, her breathing anchoring Charity’s chaos-stricken head.

 

She has no idea what she did to deserve Vanessa’s love, she has no idea how she’s going to keep it either when she can’t even sit through a car ride home without bloody falling apart, but she has no idea what she would do without it. She likes to think she would have been able to see the trial though without Vanessa but the truth of it is that she probably would have pulled the pin weeks ago.

 

It’s not because she doesn’t hate Bails with every single part of her soul, but because it’s hard to do this alone, it’s far too hard. Vanessa’s given her something to lean against, she’s given her something to fight for, she’s snapped Charity out of more moods than she can count and set her right on her feet, and she knows there’s not a member of her family who would have done the same.

 

“That’s it,” Vanessa says quietly, proudly, and Charity can see her smiling in the dark even with her eyes closed. “That’s it, just keep breathing. We don’t have to be anywhere, we can stay all night if you need.”

 

_We_ . That bloody _we_. She pushed so hard against that collective for so long, because depending on someone has only ever left her worse off in the past. Not now though. Vanessa’s shown her the strength in it.

 

She can feel Vanessa so carefully keeping the distance between them with every breath, like she thinks it’s that which is helping. It’s not though, it’s always her proximity that helps, it’s _always_ her closeness.

 

It’s like magic, sometimes, the way having Vanessa near can keep her calm when she wants to lose her mind or run her mouth, it’s like magic how closing her hand around Vanessa’s thigh can quell everything else to a dull hum.

 

Another breeze whips her hair into her eyes, skittering down her back, and she feels Vanessa shiver at the end of her arms. It always makes her smile how ill-equipped Vanessa is for the cold, how delicate her life has made her. Charity’s spent years living off it alone in doorways and alleys, pinching herself until she bruised to keep from falling asleep because she knew if she did she wouldn’t wake up again.

 

She used to resent people like that, but it’s easy to find the joy in the naïveté with Vanessa. She likes the excuse to hold her tight to keep out the cold. She likes that Vanessa needs her.

 

She takes one last deep breath before pulling Vanessa closer to her. “I don’t want to-“ Vanessa hesitates, holding herself back, and Charity knows that the rest of her unfinished sentence is something about her disrupting Charity’s peace.

 

“I need you, babe,” is all she says in reply, draping her arms around Vanessa’s shoulders and pulling her in close.

 

There’s some truth in the fact that she knows that Vanessa needs her too, but there’s a deep guilt there too because Vanessa only needs her because of what Charity’s put her through, because Charity’s dragged her through this trial right beside her, and her hands are just as dirty because of it.

 

Selfishly, she knows that she needs Vanessa more, and selfishly she hopes to the god that’s never bothered to help her before that Vanessa doesn’t ever tire of that.

 

Vanessa’s arms go around her waist, settling at her lower back but wrapping so her hands close around Charity’s sides. Her body goes soft against Charity’s and she inhales deeply. Charity can almost feel the air hit her blood stream when she breathes like this, even with Vanessa’s arms tight around her waist, because the cold helps, but Vanessa with it is a deep, steadying peace.

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Vanessa mumbles into her chest like she can read Charity’s mind. “I promise, Charity.”

 

“Good,” Charity replies as her throat thickens. She’d plead for it if she had to. She’d beg on her knees before she’d let Vanessa walk away.

 

It’s easy to close her eyes but it’s harder to pretend like there’s nothing heavy to go back and face. She wonders whether Vanessa would actually run away with her if she asked her to. She’d never leave Johnny, but they could go back for him, or send Tracy to find them after they settled somewhere.

 

There’s no victory in that though because _he_ wins then, he gets the validation of knowing that he really was the person to finally beat Charity Dingle down hard enough that she couldn’t get up again. She’s starting to realise that even winning this case isn’t going to fix a damn thing, but she knows for a certainty that him walking free would make things so much worse.

 

Maybe she was never supposed to be a victor. Maybe she was always supposed to be the scapegoat. The leftovers. The thing other people tear to pieces to prove how strong they really are. Maybe she deserves that because she’s spent the last two decades taunting people in some misguided attempt to regain some of that stolen strength.

 

Vanessa’s arms tighten around her waist like she can read her mind, like she knows exactly what’s running through her head and how acidic her own heart is towards itself.

 

She can’t really be a loser though, can she? Not as long as she has Vanessa. Not as long as she has the sun in her bed.

 

She’s seen the flicker of doubt in Mark’s wife’s eyes, like there’s something there that knows there’s a truth to Charity’s words even if she denies them on the stand, and that’s a victory in itself, because Vanessa’s never doubted her once, not once, not for a second, even when she pushed her away and pretended to drag someone else to her bed. Vanessa believes her, her _partner_ believes her, and Mark’s wife doesn’t.

 

Vanessa’s head shifts slightly to press a few dotted kisses to her chest before she settles her ear back against Charity’s heart. It’s a patience she doesn’t deserve, one she takes greedily, but she thinks she gives Vanessa enough in return. She must do, or why else would Vanessa be here. It’s not out of duty, Charity knows that much. It’s not out of pity either. Maybe she’s more of a fool than Charity thought, and she’s here out of love.

 

_Love_ , Charity thinks cynically. Pathetic, useless, wondrous, priceless, love.

 

It’s been love for a long time for her, for months, but she’s been burned by it so many times she’s so hesitant to say the words a loud. She’s hesitant in case they break this completely. She’s hesitant because Vanessa might not say them back, because she thinks Vanessa loves her too, but she’s not sure how anyone could, in all honesty.

 

This is love though, she thinks as Vanessa sighs into her, giving Charity her waning warmth without question. This can’t be anything but love. It’s beyond devotion and kindness. Driving for three hours when they’ve spent all day sitting on hard wooden stands and have a warm bed waiting for them at home because Charity’s a weak panicky fool, standing out in the cold when she could be waiting in the car, that _has_ to be love.

 

Stupid Vanessa. Stupid, gorgeous, patient, Vanessa.

 

“There’s a blanket in the back,” Vanessa says quietly, barely lifting her cheek off of Charity’s chest. “If you want to sit?”

 

“You’re freezing, babe,” Charity replies with a grimace. She’s already kept Vanessa out for far too long, she knows they need to turn home even though she’s so far from ready to. “We should-“

 

“We go when you’re ready,” Vanessa says firmly, planting her feet. Charity smiles when she can feel Vanessa’s whole body tense in resolution. “Only then. I’m plenty warm with you.”

 

“Ness,” Charity tries to argue but Vanessa’s not having a second of it.

 

She shakes her head and reaches for Charity’s cheeks, looking at her properly for the first time since they got out of the car. Her eyes are red like she’s been holding back tears and it makes Charity’s heart flutter because it brings the blue out that much stronger, even in the dark.

 

“Charity Dingle, for once in your life listen to me,” Vanessa says softly, a rush of breath accompanying it. She’s not exasperated though, she’s not annoyed. Charity thinks there’s something more like worry in her eyes instead. And a tiny hint of fear.

 

“I didn’t know it were possible to pack so much bossiness into such a small person, you know,” Charity grumbles but it eases the tightness in her chest massively.

 

They don’t have to go, yet. They can stay here in this oasis in the cold.

 

She laughs softly against Vanessa’s forehead when she realises something. “I listen to you more than I’ve ever listened to anyone else in my entire life, you know that don’t you?” Charity admits with a grin.

 

“Good, you can listen to me now then,” Vanessa replies, nuzzling her chin into the crook of Charity’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere, and we’re not leaving here until you’re ready.”

 

“What if I’m not ever ready?” Charity breathes before she can catch the words, her throat thickening as Vanessa’s arms tighten around her waist again.

 

“Then I’ll buy you breakfast on the way back in the morning,” Vanessa replies calmly. “And if you’re still not ready then…well we can figure that out when the sun comes up.”

 

The tears slip out unbidden then, rolling down her cheeks and into Vanessa’s hair as she tries to muffle a sob. It has to be love, Charity thinks as her chest shakes with her exhale. It _has_ to be.

 

Vanessa’s hands move over her back soothingly and Charity can feel the muscles around her ribs ease one by one with each breath she takes, matching them to Vanessa’s again.

 

“Charity, it’s…” Vanessa says, and stops, because she’s smart enough not to tell Charity that everything’s going to be alright. “Whatever happens,” she tries again, “I’ll be right there, alright? That won’t change, whether the jury does the right thing or not. And we’ll get through it together. You’re not alone. You’re never going to be alone again, not as long as you want me by your side.”

 

Reassurance, true reassurance, is about as intangible as true love is to Charity. It’s almost unpalatable, it sticks in her throat before she can swallow it because no one’s that determined to stick by her side. No one is. Or rather, no one has been. This Vanessa Woodfield might just be different though. She hadn’t run when she’d found out the vileness of Charity’s past, and maybe she won’t now.

 

“I know you might not believe me, but that’s alright,” Vanessa says quietly, her nails digging into Charity’s back through the layers of clothing. “I’ll just have to stay and show you, won’t I?”

 

There’s nothing else to say to that, nothing, and as much as she wants to pull herself together, all she can bloody do is cry.

 

“I’m not ready,” Charity says shakily, holding her breath until it burns in an attempt to stop the tears. She doesn’t know if she’s talking about the verdict or going home or trying to live another day on this godforsaken patch of dirt, but it doesn’t matter to Vanessa who stands as resolute as her slight frame will allow.

 

“So we’ll stay right here,” Vanessa replies with a soft, calm voice as Charity feels a drop fall against her chest. A tear. Vanessa’s crying too. “Just us,” she adds around a sniff, and Charity’s heart grows in spite of the pain clawing at her neck.

 

_Us_ , Charity thinks as the tears roll sluggishly in the cold. _Just us._

 

Her tolerance to pain is exceptional, she doesn’t need to be remotely modest about that. She’s withstood more than most people have before her knees buckled, but she doesn’t know what she’s going to do if he wins. She doesn’t know how she’s going to survive if he wins, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever get out of bed again if the justice in this world is so fucking bankrupt that it lets a man like that walk free.

 

Vanessa’s lips press a quick kiss to her neck. _Us_ , Charity thinks with a sniff. She knows she can’t do this on her own, she knows she’ll drink herself to the bottom of the pub if he wins and Vanessa’s not there to pull her above water. She can feel the familiar sweet cloying taste of self-destruction waiting, waiting, like it always does, for her to slip up and let it in. 

 

There’s a weight on her shoulders that Mark Bails put there before she was strong enough to throw a punch properly, that only Vanessa’s ever seen for what it truly was. A ton and not a chip.

 

_Vanessa sees her_ , she thinks as the cold slips into her veins, she prays. She just hopes that it’s enough. _God_ , she hopes that it’s enough.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://tigerlo.tumblr.com) this way, blah blah. There are more vanity mini fics that way that aren't here if you're interested.


End file.
